


A Spark Between Us

by WordsInTheAtmosphere



Category: Lost Dimension (Video Game)
Genre: AU: SEALED school, Canon: The Pillar, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Story Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsInTheAtmosphere/pseuds/WordsInTheAtmosphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn’t help wondering what Sho saw when he looked at him. If Sho saw anything in him.</p><p>[A collection of Toya/Sho short stories, with different POVs and/or settings. Mostly fluff. I try to keep it spoiler-free.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> **Setting** : Post-Game  
>  **Sho's PoV**

The first time they kissed was neither of their first kisses, but it didn't matter; only that it was their first kiss with each other.

First Toya kissed the corner of his mouth, and when he turned to face Toya, the man leaned in. It tasted of the hot chocolate that Sho made for the two of them, out of the instant mix that amused Toya so much.

"Convenient," he'd said, after taking a testing sip and deciding that he quite liked the taste of cheap, instant mix. After that day, Sho decided he liked instant hot chocolate too. It made their first kiss taste sweet.

The second time they kissed tasted raw. Toya's mouth was searching, persistent, while Sho struggled to keep up. Toya's quiet chuckle made Sho's heart race faster, made him want to prove to Toya that he wasn't going to stay behind for long. They battled with each other for a moment, neither wanting to cave in to the other's dominance. And from the feel of Toya's smile against his mouth, Sho knew the other man appreciated it too.

They shared several kisses after that: some fleeting, some slow, some heated. Sho learned that Toya liked to tease; a kiss to the ear often caused Sho to turn in surprise, which led to a kiss on his cheek, which led to his mouth. Toya learned that Sho liked his kisses soon, and drawing them out too long led to gripped shirts and impatient kisses.

Sho learned more through another kiss. In the heat of the moment, of exchanging hot breaths and teasing lips, the strange tightness in his chest he'd grown accustomed to overflowed with unbearable warmth. Without a second thought he whispered, "I love you."

When he felt Toya freeze against him, he almost panicked. Cursing silently, he held his breath and waited for a reply. They'd spent enough time together that Sho could tell the silence only meant Toya was searching for the right words to say.

"You make me feel less empty." Toya finally said, his voice uncertain, and yet there was a deep sincerity laced in his tone. In that moment, it was all Sho needed to understand. He let out the breath he was holding, trying hard not to smile at Toya's way of saying _I love you too_.

"Thank you," he answered quietly, brushing his lips against Toya's cheek to let his lover know he understood.

Sometimes kisses were all that were needed, and as he leaned in for another, Sho decided that he didn't mind at all.

 

* * *

 


	2. A Moment of Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting:** SEALED School AU  
>  **Toya's PoV**  
>  **Notes:** Toya and Sho are part of the student council in this particular piece.

A few minutes of silence. That was all he wanted to ask for.

There were too many things that demanded his attention, too many things for him to sort out, work a solution, organize data, formulate a plan, inform, execute. Too many things that needed help, his help that he could only afford enough time to give.

From the stack of papers they looked almost harmless, really, but the contents were enough to send his mind into a flurry of questions, data and solutions, ideas and discarded ideas: noise, too much noise. All together it sounded very much like the static emitted from the helpless electronics he used to destroy as a child; an endless scream for silence, an unsettling sound that made him want to free it, if only for his own peace of mind.

A few minutes of silence, just not to think. If only he had enough time for that.

“…ya. Toya?”

A light touch to his sleeve almost made him jump, but he checked himself in time and stiffened his body instead. When he glanced up Sho was already pulling his hand back, as if he had somehow burned Toya from his touch alone. It didn’t take much for Toya to notice the tightness around the corners of Sho’s mouth and the disguised hurt in his eyes.

Ah, damn. Sho misunderstood. Trying his best to ignore the twinge of guilt in his chest, Toya put on a polite smile.

“I’m sorry. It’s not—not that I—yes, what is it?”

 _Damn again_. It wasn’t that he had trouble speaking to people; it just seemed to happen with Sho sometimes, especially when he felt guilty like this. This was ridiculous, really: it shouldn’t matter to him that Sho misunderstood, and yet it did.

“You’re doing it again, Toya. You’re doing all of the work by yourself without letting me know.”

“That’s not—”

“What have you been doing here then?”

His first gut instinct was to keep objecting, but he looked into Sho’s eyes and found he couldn’t. Sho folded his arms, his voice mixed with equal parts exasperation and concern.

“I’m supposed to help you, Toya, but you’re going to have to let me.”

Right. Sho was here now, in the student council with him.

Sho’s role was to act as his support, to help with the paperwork so that he could actually balance his own schoolwork, get enough sleep and food. A partner to rely on. His equal. Toya tossed the word around in his mind for a moment longer, noting that it made his chest feel unusually full.

When he took too long to reply, Sho’s frown deepened. “You’re not getting rid of me, so don’t even try to talk your way out of this.”

Get rid of him? When did Sho get that idea? He looked at the tight line of Sho’s mouth and remembered that he didn’t rely enough on him, didn’t communicate with him, even flinched from contact; all of it born from a habit of being alone for so long that he’d grown accustomed to solitude.

Ah. Another misunderstanding, piled on top of previous misunderstandings.

Trying to explain himself would only end in a mess of thoughts. It was odd how this only happened around Sho, that the words that used to come easily to him seemed to crumble when he tried to express how he really felt. So instead, he decided to keep it short. Sincere.

“I’m not trying to. Thank you, Sho.”

Sho opened his mouth to protest, prepared to argue his case against Toya, but there was no case to argue. The words died in his throat and ended with astonished silence, and the off-guard look on Sho’s face made Toya want to laugh; a genuine one, not the polite laugh he sometimes had to force himself to make. It had been a long time since he felt like this.

A light tinge of embarrassment coloured Sho’s cheeks as he looked away and cleared his throat. “That’s, er—well, if you have no objections, then let me do the rest. You’ve done enough for today.”

Looking self-conscious, Sho reached over and grabbed the stack of papers. His arm brushed against Toya’s shoulder and the contact made him jump again, but this time for a different reason.

His mind was peacefully quiet. For a few moments, he hadn’t thought about the paperwork. He’d even forgotten about them.

It was not silence, but a few moments of peace. And it was more than he had wished for.

 

* * *

 


	3. Deep Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting:** Canon World, Inside the Pillar  
>  **Toya's PoV**  
>  **Notes:** A thought about Sho's Deep Vision.

Toya found it unusually difficult to look into Sho’s eyes.

He’d conversed with many people before, from politicians in power to the humble worker, and never found eye contact a problem. At least, he never thought he had. But Sho was different.

Looking into Sho’s eyes was unnerving. He knew about Sho’s power of vision, and though he understood what it meant, those eyes of his seemed clear enough to look inside his heart. A vulnerable feeling, like his soul was exposed for Sho to see despite a lifetime of hiding it, smothering it. A feeling he wasn’t accustomed to, and wasn’t sure he enjoyed.

In fact he hated it, because there wasn’t anything to see. God knows he tried not to think about what was inside himself. Emptiness had always scared him. And he had a feeling that if he let Sho look long enough, it would scare him too.

And yet, Sho kept coming back. He kept asking for his company, kept conversing with him, kept looking into his eyes with that unnervingly clear gaze. And the longer Toya looked back, the more he realized Sho was open to him too. When he looked into Sho’s eyes, he could see so much of him: his earnestness, his willingness to help, his steadfast nature. There was also vulnerability there as well; a wary anticipation of visions, a need to know that he was grounded in reality and not _seeing_ , a fear of losing others, of losing him. Understandable fears, even human, or as human as Sho could be with a Gift like his.

Yes, it felt as if Sho could look inside Toya’s heart, but the reverse was true as well. Toya envied Sho for his inability to hide, because from what he saw there wasn’t anything to hide in the first place. Clean, unlike him. Not empty.

And still, Sho kept returning to his side. Toya couldn’t understand why, but he didn’t feel the need to ask. With each moment they spent together Sho weakened that empty feeling inside of him, like water chipping away at stone. His presence was soothing, gentle and calming. And though that feeling of unease never left him, Toya found it a little easier each time to look into Sho’s eyes.

If his emptiness didn’t scare Sho away, then perhaps he saw something else there. Toya could only hope Sho was right.

 

* * *

 


	4. Housework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting** : Post-Game  
>  **Sho's PoV**

Sho quickly discovered what a mistake it is to ask Toya for help with the housework.

At first Toya seems surprised, startled even, but his eyes immediately take on an interested shine.

“Sure, of course. What do you need help with?”

The response is unexpected, as Sho is prepared to veto any of Toya’s suggestions to hire a house-cleaner. Living with the rich socialite taught him a great deal of what is deemed normal for the upper class, and he isn’t quite ready to come home to Toya’s idea of what proper housekeeping is, with an army of maids and servants to clean their small, two-person apartment.

He should’ve been suspicious then, but he is far too relieved that Toya agreed so easily. With Toya’s tight schedule in mind, he goes through the list of house chores left to do and picks the one that demands the least amount of time.

So armed with the basket of laundry and the bottle of detergent, Toya heads off to perform his first house chore. When Sho asks if Toya wants to be shown how the machine works, he is brushed off with a nonchalant hand wave.

“I’ll figure it out. I’m sure it’s not that complicated.”

There are other pressing chores to do, but Sho watches Toya balance the basket on his hip as he opens the laundry door, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of Toya acting domestic is completely new, and he can’t help but stare. He knows about Toya’s position in the world economy, his social standing, class and breeding; there are very few people of importance who don’t know his name. And yet this new sight of Toya belongs to Sho alone; he doubts even Toya’s own family have seen him do anything like this. He tucks that knowledge away close to his heart, feeling oddly pleased.

That moment does not last long. After a mere ten minutes he starts feeling a prickling sensation along the back of his neck, a familiar sign that something bad is about to happen. His premonitions are rarely wrong, and so he stops the vacuum and heads to the laundry room.

He is greeted by a wall of soap suds, tall enough to reach his waist. As he steps into the room with horror, he loses his footing on the layer of soapy water that covers the floor. He slides backwards, flailing to catch his balance, and slams the back of his head into something solid and warm. Toya steadies him with a strong arm around his waist, and Sho is only thankful for a brief second.

“What, what happened here?” He gasps, shocked to the point of feeling numb.  Toya skims his eyes over the room before crossing the floor with a careful-footed stride, and swiftly turns the machine off with a quick twist to the knob.

The sight of Toya standing hip-deep in a sea of soap suds is strikingly humorous, but Sho isn’t in the mood to laugh. Toya assesses the room, looking mildly nonplussed.

“Hmm. Too much water?” He offers, and Sho shakes his head as he parts the bubbles aside.

“Too much detergent. Gods, Toya, how much did you put in?”

“The whole bottle.” Toya replies, and the casual way he delivers the three words makes Sho’s head start to ache.

“No, that’s not—you’re not supposed to—you’re supposed to measure the amount!” He finds the culprit bottle, standing empty in a corner, and gestures at the back. Toya plucks the bottle up and turns it over.

“Oh, that’s convenient. They wrote the instructions right here.” Toya smiles in amusement, and somehow his calm demeanor lends a surreal quality to the scene.

This is not the first time Sho has been dealt one of Toya’s quirks, and so he simply shakes his head in resigned wonder and goes to fetch a bucket and mop. He hands the mop to Toya, and after rolling up his sleeves, begins scooping the bubbles out of the room.

As they work on cleaning up the mess together, Sho hears a small chuckle. Toya is still wearing that amused smile, laughing quietly to himself as he cleans. Despite the gruelling work his laughter is pure and relaxed, and the sound is contagious. They laugh together in the small, flooded room, the sea of bubbles swirling in rainbow colours around them.

It was still a mistake to have left Toya alone with the housework, Sho thinks, but for now he simply wants to cherish this moment with him.

 

* * *

 


	5. Star Gazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Setting:** Post-Game  
>  **Sho's PoV**  
>  **Notes:** A little longer than usual.

Sho returns to an empty apartment one particularly cold winter night.

He thinks it’s empty because it’s not uncommon for Toya to disappear for days on end, leaving only a brief text message behind. He knows of Toya’s erratic, complex schedule, the commitment it demands of him that leaves little room for them, and so he understands. The silence of the empty apartment is something Sho is accustomed to now, with nothing but shadows for company.

 So he doesn’t bother turning on the lights or calling out a greeting, and simply drops his things unceremoniously onto the floor. He walks around in the dark for a while, stripping off his layers and tossing them aside for later, and it is only when he thinks of getting something to eat that he notices the moonlight streaming in from the balcony.

He remembers drawing the curtains shut before leaving that morning, and when he steps closer for a better look he notices the silhouette of a man standing at the balcony. The figure is so still that it takes a moment for Sho to realize he is real and not simply an ethereal image painted by the moonlight. He recognizes the clothes, the pale, sand-coloured hair, the aura of composure and grace; and for the first time in a while, it truly feels like he has come home.

The cold air hits him like a brick wall as he pulls the glass partition open, and he regrets shedding his layers so quickly. Toya doesn’t turn around, but his presence is acknowledged with a slight movement of his head.

“Welcome back,” Toya says, and it has been a week since Sho has heard his voice but he can still hear the difference. His tone is quieter, devoid of feeling; Sho has been with him long enough to know that Toya has done something he is not proud of, something he will be ashamed of for a long time, and as a result has emptied himself of emotion in order to numb himself to the pain.

Ah. So Toya had a difficult week. It is times like this that Sho remembers what Toya used to be before they started dating, how hollow and empty he can feel like.

It makes sense now why he is standing out here, wearing just his indoor clothes and without any lights on in the house. The air is freezing and logic dictates that Sho should fetch a blanket for the both of them, but he doesn't feel like leaving Toya's side. Instead, he looks up at the sky too.

“Do you like looking at stars?” Sho asks, and Toya laughs, a short, humourless tone that leaves a puff of white smoke in the cold air.  
  
“Yes, but perhaps not for the reasons you think.” He directs his attention back up, and it is a while before he continues. “All we see of stars is what’s left of their light.”  
  
It’s a cynical observation wrapped in a riddle of words, and Sho can’t help but think how very much like him it is. With Toya’s words echoing in his mind, the stars seem lonely. Desolate. There’s a kindred look in Toya’s eyes as he gazes at the sky, and Sho wonders how many nights he has spent alone with the remains of stars for company.

There is nothing he can say to help Toya, nothing to ease the burden of what he has done. The only thing he can do is to distract him from the light of the stars, and so he curls his arms around Toya’s waist. The chill of his body is startling, but the fact that Toya doesn’t seem to notice the cold is even more so.

“You feel like ice,” Sho says, and the note of concern in his voice brings Toya back to him. An arm wraps around his back, and it feels just as cold as the rest of Toya’s body.

“Perhaps it’s because you’re so warm.” Toya tilts his face down to smile at him, and Sho is a little relieved, because Toya cannot be cold and empty when his voice is so full of warmth and affection.

Their faces are just the right distance, and so he presses a kiss against his lover’s mouth. The difference in their temperatures makes him shiver, a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed, and he feels Toya attempt to pull back. He digs his fingers into Toya’s shirt to stop him, and after a moment’s hesitation he is wrapped in cold arms, held against a cold body. Their mouths are the only heated spot between them, and it feels as if Sho’s warmth is being drained away from every place he is touched, leaving nothing behind but chilled skin.

 “You’re shivering.” When they part there’s a hidden apology in Toya’s whispered breath, like as if he has taken something he shouldn’t have, something that he doesn’t deserve. Absurd really, because body heat is very little to ask for; and yet Sho understands that Toya means something much more. Somehow they can’t seem to help worrying about each other, and in that respect they are very much alike.

 “A small price to pay for warming you.” It’s a corny thing to say, but he hasn’t seen Toya in a long time and he misses him, so he doesn’t care. A small, surprised laugh escapes the other man, and Sho smiles in turn. “Please tell me you’ll come inside. There’s only so much I can do to get you warm.”

The attempt at breaking Toya away from the stars works, and for now the hollow loneliness in his eyes is replaced with Sho’s reflection. Toya steps away from the railing and follows him into the welcomed warmth of their apartment, and he does not try to touch Sho but he is moving closer than usual, and Sho notices.

There’s better reassurance for his presence than proximity, and so he reaches behind to grasp Toya’s fingers. They feel frozen, but he only tightens his grip to stop Toya from slipping away.

No matter how little warmth he has left he’s always willing to share—and perhaps in time Toya will learn that too.

 

* * *

 


	6. Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting:** Post-Game  
>  **Toya's PoV**

Toya has never believed in fairytales.

They are pretty words, based on pretty dreams with pretty endings. But pretty things tend not to have substance, and he finds them hollow and empty of anything but filling children’s minds with wishful thinking. In reality things are rarely so easy, so pretty. In his reality, things are much grittier, harder, darker. Rarely does anything have happy endings.

He is no exception either. When Sho asks if he thinks a relationship could work between them, he doesn’t give the answer Sho wants to hear. For now, perhaps. But it will not have a happy ending.

When Sho hears that, he needs time to think. Against Toya’s expectations he comes back and still wants to try, even if he does not promise forever like the storybooks say. Eventually Toya agrees to it as well, not because he changes his mind but because he finds himself wanting to be with Sho too, even if it isn’t sane.

It is difficult, Gods it is difficult. He bears the brunt of it alone without Sho’s knowledge, because he knows Sho does not mean any harm despite what his grandfather thinks. He does not want to involve Sho in the webs of breeding and class and social status, does not want to watch Sho be torn down into pieces deemed unworthy in front of him. This is not sane, his grandfather tells him, and he knows it without having to be told. This relationship is pointless, meaningless.

And yet, the moments he shares with Sho alone in their small apartment are anything but meaningless. There are no servants to wait on them, no hands to do the chores he did not know existed until now, no one around to watch his every move. There are no elaborate ball parties, no fancy dinners or clothes or manners, no magic or adventure like the ones in fairytales. But there is peace, a comfortable type of silence that exists between them while Sho washes the dishes and he dries them.  There is warmth, the type he finds when he falls asleep with Sho next to him, just a touch away. There is belonging, the type he learns exists not where his real house is, but where Sho is waiting to welcome him home after a long day.

He learns this is happiness, not the fancy type the fairytales talk about but a simple kind that can be found in quiet and peaceful moments. He learns he is not yet hardened enough to be immune to it, and the warmth seeps into his heart and fills the emptiness inside of him, makes him whole. He learns he is terrified of happiness.

There are no happy endings, and he is no exception. The problem with happiness is that it is not permanent, and now that he is accustomed to happiness the thought of losing it is terrifying beyond belief. He thinks about how things used to be like and he doubts he can ever step back there again, not without longing and pain and regret. He sits next to Sho on the couch and thinks about how much time he has left to savour this moment together before they will have to part. He has never been so afraid of anything in his life.

“Do you believe in happy endings?” He asks Sho once, right in the middle of watching a TV show together at two in the morning, because Sho can’t sleep and Toya doesn’t mind keeping him company. The TV show is hardly worth their attention, as expected of a program shown at an hour where barely anyone is awake to see it.

Sho pauses, and for a moment Toya wonders if he is actually enjoying the show they are watching.  His eyes are still fixed on the TV, but he words his answer carefully.

“If you mean happy endings like the ones in children’s books, then no.”

Of course. Toya does not expect a different answer. Sho is far too sensible and practical to believe in childish things. Sho has given him the answer he is expecting, and yet Toya can’t help but wonder why he feels so disappointed in being right.

“But I believe in compromises. A way to work things out for the better.” Sho’s voice cut into Toya’s thoughts just when he thinks he heard the full answer. “There are no permanent endings written out of our control.”

Toya glances over at Sho and meets his clear eyes. It has been a while since The Pillar, and he has nearly forgotten this side of his lover. Sho is a person who can see ahead, someone who sees the future, but instead of accepting the fate shown to him he only sees what he can change. He looks into Sho’s eyes and sees the willpower to change his ending, something that Toya hasn’t considered.

No permanence in endings. From anyone else he would have laughed, but because it is Sho he finds himself believing it too.

They settle back against each other to watch the half-forgotten TV show, and he finds Sho’s clean scent comforting. For the first time in a while, he feels content.

He still doesn’t believe in happy endings, but perhaps it isn’t wrong to hope for a better one, no matter how difficult it may be.

 

* * *

 


	7. Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting** : Post-Game  
>  **Sho's PoV**

Ties weren't something Sho ever grew accustomed to wearing.

He wore one when asked, of course, but they always felt tight around his neck. In his opinion, ties were stifling and difficult to knot properly; they were always a little too tight or a little too awkward. The fault really lay in his lack of technique, but even when Toya lent a practised hand and fixed his ties for him, they still felt wrong. Ties were formal, and though Sho thought of himself as well-mannered he was never quite deserving of a tie. So he never grew fond of wearing one, no matter how often he wore them.

\---

He woke up late for work one morning.

Too much in a rush to get out of the house, he pulled on the closest shirt he could find and quickly knotted the accursed tie, his attempt more clumsy than usual. When he hurried out of the bedroom, Toya glanced over from the kitchen counter and lifted an eyebrow.

"Late, I see." He smiled down at Sho's clothes as he offered his half-finished coffee to him, and Sho gratefully accepted.

"I'll fix my tie later." He gulped down the hot drink, wincing a little at the bitter taste. Toya liked his coffee straight, and the taste was stronger than what Sho was used to. "You know I can't tie these blasted things."

"Well yes, that is indeed hideous. But that's not what I'm talking about." Toya reached out and straightened Sho's collar, an amused smile on his face. "You're just wearing my shirt."

Sho balked, nearly dropping the mug as he pulled back to look at his shirt in dismay. It was indeed Toya's—one of his favourites, at that.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—"

Toya waved his apology away with a laugh. "There's no need. It's interesting to see you wear my things." His fingers ghosted down Sho's collar, tips lightly brushing against his tie. "Let me help."

He worked the knot loose before Sho could object, his fingers coaxing the fabric apart. Sho stood still and allowed Toya to handle him; the only upside to ties, he thought, was the excuse to stand this close to Toya and allow himself to be taken care of. Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Toya glanced up. There was an intense heat in his gaze that captured Sho utterly, and when Toya leaned down to kiss him Sho closed his eyes and let himself forget about work for a moment.

"On second thought, it's only fair that I get something of yours to wear too, no?" Toya murmured against his lips, and Sho could feel his tie slipping off.

In a few moments his tie was around Toya's neck, knotted with a skill that Sho could never hope to possess. Seeing Toya wear his tie sent a strange thrill of pleasure up his spine; it felt almost like a mark of ownership, a private claim on Toya that only the two of them would know.

He didn't mind that thought at all, even if it did mean he had to fetch his second tie.

 

* * *

 


	8. Inconvenient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting** : Canon, in the Pillar  
>  **PoV** : Traitor!Toya  
>  **Notes** : I tried very hard to keep this spoiler-free from the true end, but let me know if you think I need to slap on a warning after all. Also, I wrote this in a haze after studying, so it may be incoherent. Sorry.

Love, he thought, was rather inconvenient.

In some ways, he preferred that it hadn’t happened to him at all. Love made things a little more complicated than he would have liked. It made him distracted half the time, made him absent-minded in his responses, made him blurt out truths he would have preferred not to say in hindsight. Love made him want Sho to know him better, made him want to know Sho better, even if that was the last thing he should be doing.

The worst part, however, was that it made his own actions unpredictable even to himself. He couldn’t be impartial anymore, couldn’t calculate his next move without hesitating. In situations like this, feelings was the last thing he needed to interfere with his plans—Nagi herself warned him under her breath on the fourth floor, when they had both regained their complete memories. By then it was far too late for him to pull away from Sho. Discarding his feelings at the drop of a hat shouldn’t have been so difficult, so impossible.

How foolish he had been to think that he was too unclean to experience something so pure. Love, it turned out, didn’t really care much for logic or reason. It was inconvenient, distracting, unreasonable, inescapable. Painful.

It hurt to be in love—a fact he learned when he found lying almost unbearable, not because of the action itself but because the thought of hurting Sho like this made his chest ache. Lying was not something new to him, after all; his livelihood often depended on his ability to bluff, usually with too many things at stake. There were many things at stake now too, and yet he felt his well-worn poker face faltering.

And so he ended up doing nothing. Despite everything he had sacrificed to come this far, he did nothing. When the time came for judgment, it came as no surprise to him to see his face flashing across the screens hanging above. Sho was intelligent. It was near impossible to hide anything from Sho’s eyes.

He had never lost at anything before, especially at bluffing, and so this was the first time he’d experienced anything like this. He should be feeling disappointed, but instead all he felt was a sense of relief. It was over. He no longer held the burden to keep playing traitor.

The indescribable hurt in Sho’s eyes made him falter for a moment. For someone who supposedly did the right thing, Sho looked like he was hurting much more than Toya, the one in the wrong. Ah, he realized, love had dug its claws into someone else’s heart too. It suddenly occurred to him that leaving wasn’t the hardest part to play; being left behind was much harder, from what he could tell from the look on Sho’s face.

He now understood that this was The End’s plan all along: The End had not expected any of them to succeed, to do anything; the whole point was to make Sho suffer like this, over and over. Hate, the other side of love. Love, the other side of hate. Two sides of the same coin, and in that sense The End was no different than he was.

Love, he thought, was rather inconvenient.  


	9. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting:** SEALED School AU  
>  **Toya's PoV**  
>  **Notes:** An actual attempt at writing a confession. It's a different scenario than the one in "A Day of Rain", the other side story I posted outside of this collection (which is also a [failed] confession piece in the school setting). Sorry if that was confusing..
> 
> Also, it's too long to be a drabble at all. (I don't want to keep spamming the tag with short fics, so please forgive me...)

“I like you.”

Ah, thinks Toya, it’s this again.

He looks aside at the boy standing next to him, fidgeting and not meeting his eyes. His classmate is serious about everything, too serious sometimes, and so Toya knows that Sho is serious about this too. Sho isn’t the type of person who would confess on a crush; he is the type to think carefully and deeply about his actions, about the consequences, and judge the outcome for himself. So there is no way Sho did not foresee what Toya’s usual answer to these confessions will be.

And yet here he is, looking so unusually beside himself that it seems as though Sho had only confessed because he wanted to relieve the burden of carrying these feelings. He’s really serious about this, Toya can’t help but think once more, and he focuses back to looking out the window they are both standing next to.

“Thank you. That makes me happy,” he says, the usual answer to the usual confession. Happiness is not quite the word to describe what he is feeling, but he has learned it is the gentlest, kindest word he can use. He owes this much to the person who confesses, to the person who has built up enough courage to do so, no matter what the reason is. The words are automatic now, and so he says it to Sho too.

Sho lets out a quiet breath, and Toya gets the feeling that his stock answer was indeed foreseen and expected. Sho’s Gift is vision, after all, and so he has surely seen this outcome. Then, thinks Toya, he must know what will come next.

The fact that Sho has foreseen the outcome makes things easier. Toya will not have to worry about Sho’s feelings if Sho already knows the answer and is prepared to hear it. Still, it surprises him that Sho confessed at all; in his opinion, confessions are done on the sliver of hope that there is a chance to be had. No one else has Sho’s Gift, after all, so no one else will be able to see the outcome, and that uncertainty grants hope. Yet here Sho is, the only one who can see the result, the only one who knows for certain that there is no hope to pursue, and still he confessed.

Sho is still waiting for his reply, for his inevitable rejection, but now Toya can’t stop wondering why. It seems so illogical to change everything between them in an instant, when Sho can see the future and predict that Toya will reject him. Or will he? Did Sho see something else? Things should have been much simpler now, but instead Toya feels confused and intrigued. What future did Sho see that made confessing worth risking everything? What future is Sho anticipating right now?

So instead of delivering his usual rejection line, he turns to Sho. Let me see this future you’ve seen, he thinks.

“You must already know the answer. Why did you do it?”

“Confess?” Sho asks to clarify, but the steady tone in his voice tells Toya that he has anticipated this question too. The thought that his actions can be predicted like this, that he can follow such a predictable line of events as foreseen by Sho, irritates him.

“Yes, confess. Surely you know my answer.” His voice is irritable now, and he stops. There is no reason to take out his frustration on Sho. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to speak to you this way. I’m just a little confused.”

“So, it’s a no after all.” Sho turns to look at him, the first time since he confessed. His eyes are still determined, but he is wavering now. “May I ask why? Is it because you don’t think of me that way?”

Sho hasn’t answered his question, but Toya humours him anyway. He looks at his classmate, his friend, the one who is always too serious, too meddlesome, too kind-hearted, too straight-forward. It’s not that he doesn’t like him. He rather enjoys spending time with Sho. So what exactly does he feel?

Disappointed, comes the immediate answer, because now things cannot be the same between them. It’s a stupid reason because that has never bothered him before, but now it does. He treasures his friendship with Sho, wants to be with him always, and now that Sho has confessed something will have to change. With others, it was easy to keep acting like nothing changed, but Sho is different to him. He realizes now that Sho is closer to his heart than he had previously thought, and now he is worried about their relationship breaking apart when it shouldn’t matter at all.

Disappointed, he thinks, because he had hoped Sho would be different. Sho is not the first one to confess; he is one in several. Toya is not naïve enough to believe that all of them were pure and true—he understands his breeding, the allure of his social class and standing, the benefits he can bring to a relationship. Sho is not the type of person to care about those things, but that’s not the least of Toya’s worries. He understands too that his innate ability to excel attracts attention to him, how it isolates him from others, so much that he cannot tell the difference between love, strategy, and admiration. He has never been in love, he realizes, and in that sense he envies Sho for looking so sure of his feelings.

Disappointed, he now knows, because a part of him finds the thought of being in a relationship with Sho attractive. He looks at his classmate, still waiting patiently for an answer, and thinks of the time they have spent together and how those moments have changed him. He wants more, and it doesn’t matter to him whether it is purely friendship or in a new relationship with each other. He just wants to be with Sho. But he doesn’t want a relationship if it is admiration on Sho’s side; he treasures Sho too much to want that. Gods, and he has never been in love before—he isn’t even sure of himself. He has never agreed to anything he wasn’t certain of, and this is no different.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, a surprisingly weak conclusion after all the thinking he had just done, an answer that sounds so off-handed and trivial. “I don’t know what it feels like to love someone. How do you know you’re in love with me, Sho, and not just mistaking admiration for love?”

Sho’s gaze is no longer wavering. “If you’re asking me to spell out the difference, there isn’t anything I can say to convince you. I love you. One day, I woke up and realized that I am in love with you. I just want to be with you, so much that it hurts, and if I don’t say anything now you might end up with someone else, and I can’t stand that thought. I’ve never been in love before either, so I don’t know if this is real or if it’s just admiration, like you’ve said. But I want to find out together. With you, Toya.”

Toya smiles at that, at how simple and straight-forward Sho’s answer is. There are no flattering lists, no frills or pretty words to convince him, no mentions of fate or destiny, even if Sho may be the only person in the world with the credibility to say so. All Sho gave him was the simple truth. How very much like Sho.

His smile must have encouraged Sho, because he relaxes too. “How about you, Toya? Do you want to be with me?”

Toya looks at him, thinks of the future Sho must’ve seen that has led to this moment. He thinks of the future ahead of them, of the future he hopes to see with the person standing beside him. It's risky, but if Sho is willing to try, then he is too.

 “Alright,” he says. “Let’s find out together, Sho.”

 

* * *

 


	10. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting:** SEALED School AU  
>  **Sho's PoV**  
>  **Notes:** Takes place sometime after the previous chapter.

Sho enters the school infirmary in a rush.

Nagi clearly does not expect him here, because she looks startled as she gets up from her seat. Sho glances over at the bed and spots Toya lying there with his eyes closed, lying far too still. He is too panicked to remember what Nagi wrote in her text message, so he peels his eyes off Toya’s pale face and turns to her.

“What happened?” He asks, and she frowns a little.

“Practice. He overdid himself.” Her answer is short and concise, as if delivering a report to him. Somehow, her strict, military composure helps him calm down. So, Toya was practicing his Gift when he collapsed.

Toya’s Gift is manipulating magnetic fields, he recalls, a power that Toya doesn’t often use unless he has to. Magnetism is easy for Toya to control, but the electricity he forms is much more complicated. From what Sho remembers of it, Toya’s electricity feels raw and powerful, wild and uncontrollable, always on the verge of destroying not just the targets but also everyone else within range. Sho doesn’t often go to Gift Practice, as his Gift doesn’t need practicing, but he remembers how frighteningly close Toya came to losing control, how his aim felt a little off, how exhausted he was after just a few rounds. Controlling his electricity is something no one can teach Toya to do, and Sho knows that Toya takes the responsibility seriously, that he understands the damage he is capable of causing if he doesn’t learn to control it. So it doesn’t surprise him that Toya had over-exerted himself during practice.

“I’ll watch over him, Sho. Don’t worry.” Nagi’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “I know how busy it gets in the student council.”

“I want to stay,” he blurts out, and after a moment of hesitation, of weighing his options, he continues. “We’re, we’re seeing each other.”

Only recently, he adds silently in his mind, but the revelation still stuns Nagi. She blinks, then once more, and finally she steps back and apologizes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. If I had known, I would’ve texted you sooner.”

She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving Sho alone with Toya. So, he thinks, Toya hasn’t told anyone. He hasn’t told Nagi, the next person he is closest to.

Toya shows no signs of waking up, but his breathing is steady, and so Sho settles down with the student council work he had thought to bring along. It is a while before Toya awakens, and Sho is making good progress when he hears Toya stirring.

“Nagi?” Toya’s voice is uncharacteristically weak, slurring with exhaustion. A sharp sting pierces Sho’s chest, and it takes a moment for him to realize that he is hurt. The first name Toya calls out is not for him, but for someone else.

“Toya, it’s me.” Toya’s health is more important right now, so he presses the hurt out of his mind and leans over. Toya meets his eyes and looks startled, like Nagi did when Sho first entered the infirmary, and Sho can’t help but think how similar the two of them are.

“Sho?” Toya stares at him in disbelief, and he tries to get up. His body is too weak and he can barely lift himself off the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you collapsed. Of course I’m here.”

“I see.” Toya pauses, his gaze flickering over the pile of work Sho had been working on earlier. “I’m fine now. You don’t have to worry.”

His firm, polite tone tells Sho to leave, that he doesn’t need to stay. The stinging pain bites Sho again, this time in his palms, and he realizes he is clenching his fists. They are dating, aren’t they? Why is Toya asking him to leave, when he had just called out for Nagi?

His chest burns with a tight, uncomfortable feeling, and he is suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that he does not want to lose to anyone, especially to Nagi. He places his hands against Toya’s chest and leans forward, pushing Toya back down onto the bed, pressing his weight into Toya as he leans over him, feeling the bed dip slightly from their combined weight. He looks deeply into Toya’s questioning eyes, and then, before his nerves fail him, he kisses him.

It is their first kiss with each other. It is chaste, determined, a little shy, a little nervous.  When Sho pulls back, Toya’s eyes are wide with surprise. He stares back up at Sho, not seeming to register what had just happened, not seeming to register that Sho had just kissed him. Just when Sho starts to think that maybe the kiss was a bad idea, Toya’s face begins to redden.

He rolls over, turning his back to Sho as he buries his face in his arms, but it is too late. Sho has already seen the look on Toya’s face. In that glimpse, he understands that Toya does indeed like him, does indeed like the kiss, even if he did not anticipate it at all. Toya’s off-guard expression is endearing, and Sho finds that he can’t fight the smile off his face.

Toya no longer asks him to leave, so he sits back down and picks up the pen on the table.

“Next time,” he says quietly, “call my name instead.”

 

* * *

 


	11. Adjustment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting** : SEALED School AU  
>  **Toya's PoV**  
>  **Notes** : Too long, again. //sweats//... I guess I will have to change drabble collection into story collection. 
> 
> In this AU, Sho is still struggling to control his Gift.

They have only been dating for two weeks when Sho suddenly stops meeting his eyes.

Toya has done nothing, as far as he can tell, that warrants this treatment. He tries to read Sho’s body language whenever they are together, but Sho is carefully guarded and it is hard to tell what he is thinking when his eyes are hidden. They are both still new to this relationship, learning how to be together as lovers and not just friends, learning how to see each other in a new light. Toya had thought they were doing fine, but then Sho suddenly stops meeting his eyes.

There are normally a few reasons for this: First, he has done something to offend Sho. Toya understands that sometimes the things he says can be taken wrongly, can be seen as condescending or haughty, but he has never intended to sound that way at all. It’s a good possibility that he has said something unknowingly offensive to Sho, but he knows Sho long enough to think that he would’ve said something if that were the case.

The next reason would be that Sho is hiding something from him. This doesn’t bother him if it is true; everyone has something they don’t want anyone else to know. He of all people understands this, despite his age, despite being a high school student. The problem is that it must involve him if Sho is not meeting his eyes, and not knowing what it might be is affecting him more than he cares to admit.

The final reason—the one that bothers him the most—is that Sho has decided that Toya is not exactly what he had hoped for and his feelings has changed. This, Toya thinks, is the most likely reason for the sudden loss of eye contact. There isn’t anything he has that is worthy of Sho’s affection—admiration, perhaps, but not love. When he tries to think of why Sho chose him and not someone else, all he finds is silence. There is nothing inside him, just a hollow emptiness that he has averted his eyes from for as long as he can remember.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Nagi says when he tells her this. Because if he ends up being right, he does not want to hear it.

He does not have to answer for Nagi to know what he is thinking. She sighs, closing her notebook. “Your problem is that you think too much. Just ask him.”

For as little words as Nagi speaks, she offers sound advice. So he waits outside Sho’s classroom door when the home bell rings, outside the back door that he has noticed Sho leaving most of the time.  As expected, Sho steps out directly in front of him, spotting him and stopping in his tracks for a split second before making his way over. The one thing Toya does not expect, however, is the surprised look on Sho’s face, like as if he did not know Toya is going to be here waiting for him. Huh. He had figured Sho would’ve foreseen this. It seems, Toya thinks, that Sho is not able to predict everything.

Sho meets his eyes and then trails his gaze to the side. “This is unusual,” Sho says. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Toya pauses, wondering if it’s really that unusual for him to be here, especially since now they are dating. “I just want to see you.”

It is a casual remark, a careless truth he tossed out without much thought, but Sho’s face immediately flushes and he ducks his head. Damn it. He did not intend to sound so romantic, but now Sho’s reaction is making him feel embarrassed too. This sudden reaction, this language Sho’s body is telling him, makes Toya momentarily confused. Sho still likes him, enough to react to such a simple comment, and now he isn’t sure why Sho won’t meet his eyes anymore.

He coughs, adjusting the bag strap across his shoulders in an attempt to appear casual, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks. “Shall we walk home together?”

Sho nods, still not meeting his eyes, still too shy to lift his head, and so they walk together, side by side, neither looking at the other. It’s painfully awkward, especially with Toya’s unintentional blunder in both their minds. Yes, he wants to see Sho, but only because he has something he needs to ask. He glances beside him at the thought, catches Sho looking at him too, but when their eyes meet Sho immediately turns away. Enough. He cannot take this awkwardness anymore.

“Sho, why won’t you look at me?”

Sho stiffens at his question, but does not attempt to deny the accusation. Toya watches him carefully, his heart anxious in his chest as he waits for Sho’s answer.

“My Gift,” Sho says slowly. “I don’t have full control over it yet.”

The shift in topic confuses Toya, because he does not quite grasp how Sho’s clairvoyance has anything to do with avoiding his eyes. His heart sinks the longer he thinks about it, because Sho sees the future, and if he does not like what he sees then it must not be good. Ask, he reminds himself. If their relationship is going to survive, he will need to ask and not over-analyze everything.

 “I’m sorry. I admit I’m a little confused. Is there something you’re afraid of seeing when you look at me?”

“It’s not that.” Sho’s words are hurried now, tumbling over each other with nervousness. “It’s not the future I see when I look at you. You’re a private person, Toya—I don’t want to—Gods, this is hard to say.”

The way Sho speaks of him feels intimate, like he has seen something Toya does not want anyone to know, and now he is nervous too. But he is patient, and Sho is obviously struggling to explain, so he waits for Sho to continue.

“Vision can mean different things. Not just clairvoyance, but also—also, I can see someone’s heart. Sometimes when I look at you, I look into your heart too.”

Ah. Everything falls into place: the sudden loss of eye contact, the observation that Toya is a private person, the fear Sho has of offending him. And it is true—he is a private person, does not enjoy the thought that his heart has already been read, does feel a little unsettled that his privacy has been invaded without his permission. But the most surprising thing is that he finds himself not minding if it is Sho.

“I see.” He forces himself to speak, knowing that if he is silent for too long Sho will take it the wrong way. “It’s true that I prefer to keep things to myself. But I think I’d rather have you look at me than to avoid my eyes like this.”

“But I will read your heart,” Sho protests, and he sounds angry at himself for not being able to control his own Gift, for reading Toya’s heart, even though they are dating—or perhaps because they are. Sho makes things harder for himself, Toya thinks, because he cares too much about how the other would feel when his Gift can be so invasive.

“Go ahead. I don’t have anything to hide from you.” Toya stops, thinking of the emptiness he does not enjoy looking at, thinking of Sho seeing that side of him. “Or rather, I do not feel it's wrong for you to see the truth about me.”

It occurs to him now that dating someone with Sho’s Gift will take some adjusting to do. Granted, Toya knows he himself is not the easiest person to get along with, but Sho’s Gift makes it hard for anyone to hide anything. There will be no means to safeguard against Sho’s eyes, and Sho’s reservations about revealing his power makes complete sense. It would scare most people, or at least people who do not understand life with a Gift, people who are not prepared to sacrifice their sense of privacy for a seer. They make an unusual pair: Sho with his ability to read people’s hearts, he with too many thoughts inside his head. But if Sho is willing to be with him despite that, he does not mind adjusting to Sho either.

“Look at me, Sho.” It takes some coaxing, but Sho finally meets his eyes. Toya smiles to show that he isn’t bothered by Sho’s Gift, even if it will not be easy to get used to. “I really don’t mind. So please, stop avoiding my eyes.”

“I don’t have that much control. I can’t stop when I want to. Are you really alright with that?” Sho doesn’t seem to think Toya understands the full implications of his Gift, and perhaps he is right. But the reason Toya agreed to this relationship in the first place is because he is willing to accept everything of Sho, no matter what it is, even if it is invasive and unsettling.

“Yes. And perhaps you don’t have as much control as you like, because no one is willing to be your subject for you to practice on.” He looks into Sho’s eyes, thinks about how frighteningly clear they are, how they reflect what lies buried deep inside his heart like a mirror. “But you are not on your own anymore, Sho. You have me.”

And Sho smiles, a relieved, warm smile that melts away the apprehension in his eyes, a radiant smile that is filled with wonder and gladness that his Gift has been accepted so readily. He is dazzling in his joy, and though Sho doesn’t express himself in words his eyes reveal everything in his heart too, and it is like looking into a pool of pure, clean water and seeing everything at the bottom in full, crisp detail.

This relationship will not be easy, but if it means getting to see Sho’s face light up like this, Toya is willing to do anything.

 

* * *

 


	12. Grandfather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting** : Canon  
>  **PoV** : Toya  
>  **Notes** : Had to make up a bit for Toya's family, but in the booklet it only mentions his grandpa. I imagine his parents are not as important to him.

As a child, there isn't anyone Toya loves more than his grandpa.  
  
His grandpa is tall and strong, with a voice that commands the attention of everyone around him. He is strict, a little too strict sometimes, but he treats Toya as if he is a grownup too, talks to him like they are equals even though Toya is just a child. He is the first person Toya runs to when he has nightmares, and his grandpa never laughs even if it is something childish and silly. When Toya receives his Gift, his grandpa is the only one who stands up to him, who looks him in the eyes without a trace of fear. In his grandpa's eyes, he is not a Gifted, not someone with a dangerous and unstable power that could kill at a moment’s notice; he is still his grandchild, a child unlucky enough to be chosen for a Gift, a kid who doesn't know right from wrong yet. When Toya is with his grandpa, he doesn't feel so much like a monster.  
  
There isn't much that Toya loves, but he loves his grandpa.  
  
One day, his grandpa sits him down for a talk. Toya sits in the leather armchair his grandpa always sits in, and he finds the chair is so big that his legs cannot make it to the floor, even though he used to be one of the tallest kids at the labs.  
  
"Toya, we must talk." His grandpa holds his hand, and his fingers are rough and dry and calloused, but it feels strong and safe. "Eventually, I will no longer be around."  
  
The thought is scary because his grandpa is powerful and invincible, much like the superheroes in his favourite TV show but in a different way, in the way that grownups can only be because they are the responsible ones. "Don't say that. You'll live forever, won't you?"  
  
"No. No one lives forever, not even me." His grandpa kneels down to meet his eyes, and Toya hates this talk because when his grandpa looks into his eyes it means this is serious, this cannot be avoided. "Listen carefully, because this is important. When I die, someone has to replace me. Someone I can entrust the future to. Someone I know that will help heal this world, long after I'm gone."  
  
"What about Dad?" Toya asks, trying not to let his voice wobble, but his grandpa shakes his head.  
  
"No, not him. There are some people, no matter how they are raised and taught, who are not meant for some things. Their hearts are too weak. But you are strong, Toya." His grip is steady and firm, and though Toya wants to look away he cannot. "What do you think? It won't be easy. It'll be very, very hard. But there's no one else I know who can do this as well as you can. Do you want to inherit this world?"  
  
Toya looks at his grandpa, the one who accepted him with his Gift, the one who didn't get angry when he was being too naughty, the one who chased away the nightmares with his mere presence. For the first time, he notices the lines etched into his grandpa's face, the tiredness in his eyes, the bones of his fingers pressing into his.  
  
"If that's what you want," he says, and he means it.  
  
\---  
  
When Toya is older, his sentiments do not change even when he does.  
  
His grandpa didn't lie, has never lied. The work is hard, almost impossible, but when he tells his grandpa so he is only met with a strong gaze.  
  
"You can do this. You're not like everyone else." His grandpa's voice is firm, leaves no room for disagreement. "Inheriting the world is a big responsibility, so of course it will be hard, but you are exceptional. You must be stronger than anyone else, smarter than anyone else. If you're not, how are they supposed to rely on you?"  
  
So Toya grits his teeth and tries harder, because his grandpa believes that he can and his grandpa is always right, and in the end, no matter how tough the work is, he always succeeds. The pride his grandpa has in him makes the work worth it, makes him feel worth it. His grandpa is hard on him, has been harder on him ever since he agreed to be his heir, and yet Toya does not love him any less. He has to be stronger, be smarter, because when his grandpa's time is up he wants his grandpa to feel reassured that the world will be left in the right hands, that there will be nothing left to worry about.  
  
So he works hard, not just at his work and his studies but also his own self. His childhood is over sooner than anyone else his age, and with only adults for company he learns to become one too. He is made to understand the ugly side of the world, of businesses, of people. He learns that sometimes ruining lives becomes an excuse for something greater, and sometimes he is powerless to stop it. He is powerless, always powerless even with his Gift; he learns there are ways to kill people without them dying, by destroying what makes them want to live in the first place. He learns to empty himself, because it's impossible to break something if nothing is there.  
  
When he sees his parents again, a few years have passed but it feels like a lifetime ago.  
  
"I don't even recognize you," his mother tells him, and her smile is so sad that Toya has to avert his eyes. "Don't you regret this path you've chosen?"  
  
He has changed, not for the better but for the sake of inheriting the world, for being someone capable enough for such a duty. "No," he says, because this is who he needs to be if he is to heal the world in his grandpa’s place, and if this is what his grandpa wants then this is what he wants too.  
  
\---  
  
When he falls in love with Sho, everything changes.  
  
It is the first time he has ever felt equal with anyone, after a lifetime of being told that he must train himself to be superior to everyone else, to be someone the world can depend on. When he is with Sho, Sho becomes that person to him: a person he is allowed not to be superior to, a person he is allowed to depend on, a person he is allowed to be human with. In Sho's eyes, he is not a person chosen to inherit the world, a person who has made too many difficult decisions and ruined lives for the sake of a better future; he is a lover who likes to tease, a partner who likes housework even if he has never done it before, a person who, when left alone for too long, always ends up thinking too much. When Toya is with Sho, he doesn't feel so much like a monster.  
  
He already knows what his grandpa will think, but he tells him anyway. He keeps Sho's identity a secret, his Gift a secret, because he knows his grandpa is not beyond manipulating Sho's power if he knows, and he does not want to dirty Sho's hands.  
  
The reaction is predictable, especially because he cannot answer his grandpa's questions of Sho's lineage, of his importance in the worlds of economy or politics.  
  
"Why did you choose him, a civilian? He is unimportant. He is nothing," his grandpa fumes, and Toya has to suppress the smile on his face because nothing could be further from the truth than that; Sho is important, he is everything, at least to him.  
  
"I didn't choose him," he says instead, his tone quiet and respectful. "It just happened."  
  
His answer only serves to fuel his grandpa’s anger, because nothing is worse than unpredictable variables, than things not chosen carefully without deliberate thought. Everything in Toya's upbringing has been calculated to a meticulous precision, and now his relationship threatens to throw things off center. Toya is now old enough to know that his grandpa does not know everything, that his grandpa is not always right, that he is still human like everyone else. He knows his grandpa has a habit to control, a necessary trait for the line of work he does. He knows his grandpa's anger is not truly directed at Sho but out of concern for the future, for who will replace Toya when his time, too, is up.  
  
When he returns home, Sho sees the look on his face and presses him for answers. Toya only caves in because Sho has enough things to worry about without his silence adding to it too.  
  
"It's my grandpa. He doesn't approve of us." He stops there, thinking this will be the end of the topic, but the worry in Sho's eyes only grows.  
  
"And?"

"It's what he wants," Toya finally says, and a long time ago it used to mean that it’s what he wants too, but now he finds those two things no longer align.  
  
"What about you? What do you want?" Sho asks, and it's the first time Toya has ever been forced to separate his desires from what his grandpa wants. Even so, he doesn't need to consider his answer because the words are immediate, are as natural to him as a heartbeat.  
  
"You. It has always been you," he says, and he means it.

It’s strange and sad, the fact that he cannot make the two most important people in his life happy without hurting the other. As much as he loves his grandpa, he loves Sho too, in a different way that is not any more or less important. And, he thinks as he holds Sho close that night, if he could be allowed to be selfish, then this is what he wants—not for his grandpa but for himself, just this once.

 

* * *

 


	13. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Setting** : SEALED School AU  
>  **Toya's PoV**  
>  **Notes:** Continues from Confession/Jealousy/Adjustment.

Love, he discovers, comes slow.  
  
It takes a while for Toya to understand, because he’s too busy trying to find love between them in the same way everyone else does. He knows nothing of love, or at least in terms of romance, and so he studies the way the other teen couples look at each other. He is envious of the embarrassing nicknames and the sappy looks and the clingy touches, not because he wants it too but because he cannot imagine ever being comfortable enough for those things. _This isn't me_ , he thinks, and he always feels a little guilty afterwards for Sho, for being the person he is.  
  
Sho deserves better. The way he is kind, finding the time to care about others even when he should be worrying about himself first. The way he is strong whenever he lapses into a vision, never able to turn off his Gift but never letting it win. The way he never complains, even if Toya has no idea how to love him, even if he has no idea what it means to love someone. Sho deserves better.  
  
But oh, when Sho smiles. Not the smile he shows to everyone, but the one when they are alone. It’s different because it comes after a gentle kiss or a soft, unexpected touch. He sees Sho smile, a little bashful but warm and quiet like morning sunlight and kindness. It’s strange, but he feels giddy afterwards, a little bashful too.  
  
And the way Sho’s eyes light up at the smallest things. When he sees Toya waiting for him, after classes are over. When Toya asks if he wants to spend more time together, even when the request is selfish because he just doesn’t feel like seeing Sho home just yet. The way Sho’s eyes light up in wonder when he gazes at the night sky, because Toya wants to show him the things he loves too, and the reflection of the stars in Sho’s eyes distracts Toya from the real thing above them. He used to think that stars were the most soothing things he’ll ever see, but then he sees them in Sho’s face and realizes there are different ways to feel calm and content. He just never thought it could be in another person.  
  
Sho deserves more. He finds himself thinking that, and less that he deserves someone else. It’s selfish, because he isn’t the kind of person who can give him those ridiculous nicknames, those sappy looks and clingy touches, but he loses the thought that he could be willing to let someone else give Sho those things. There is a better happiness out there, but he finds himself wanting to be that for Sho even if he has no idea how.  
  
“I’m sorry I’m like this,” he says once to Sho. “I didn’t know I would be this selfish. I know you deserve more.”  
  
Sho looks confused at first, and then he frowns. “More? I don’t want more,” he says. “I just want you.”  
  
“Just this?” Toya asks. He can’t imagine what he has given Sho, because he hasn’t done much at all. Sho squeezes his hand.  
  
“Just this. And this is enough.”  
  
So he stops apologizing, presses the guilt away, and tells himself that he is enough.  
  
And yet, even without doing anything, some things do change. The embarrassing nicknames never come, but Sho's name feels different in his mouth. It’s strange how a name can feel so different to say, but it’s soft and warm and familiar. Sho hears the difference as well, and even if it's his own name he looks so flustered that Toya can't help but feel each time he calls Sho he sends a piece of his heart to him too.  
  
And the touches. He presses a finger between Sho's furrowed brows, where there is a wrinkle. Sho is too tense and serious sometimes, and Toya is starting to wonder if the wrinkle is making a home there. Sho looks at him, relaxing under his touch, raising an eyebrow in question with a small, confused smile on his lips. Toya realizes he is touching someone with an affectionate comfort he has never felt before. Without feeling that he needs to be polite. Without feeling that he needs to be distant.  
  
He holds Sho's hand in public for the first time. He doesn't think. At some unknown point he has grown accustomed to holding Sho's hand when they are alone. At some unknown point, holding Sho's hand has moved from something new and exciting to something familiar and comfortable. He doesn't think, so he reaches out for that familiar warmth. It’s only when Sho tries to let go of his hand from embarrassment that he finally realizes he slipped up. Still, he doesn't let go, so Sho holds on to him too.  
  
So this is love, he thinks one day when he catches his gaze lingering on Sho for a little too long because he can’t take his eyes off his smile. It’s not as flashy or as bold as he once believed it should be, at least in the way he has seen it shown. And maybe that was the problem with him; he’d thought love was impossible because he saw how loud it could look like and thought if he couldn’t do those things he was incapable of it.  
  
But maybe love can sometimes be quiet, given in small touches and lingering looks and with his heart in his voice. Maybe love can also come from the small things that can only be observed in silence, like the small differences in Sho’s smiles, like the stars reflected in his eyes. Maybe love can be a little selfish, when the thought of leaving hurts even if he still thinks Sho deserves more. And if these things can be love then surely he can be enough, at least for now. Surely he can be forgiven for not letting go.

This is love, and it comes slow.

 

* * *

 


End file.
